


Just a Criminal

by stan_of_many



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Neal Caffrey Needs a Hug, Neal is more than a criminal, Peter is basically Neal’s dad and older brother rolled into one, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28835388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stan_of_many/pseuds/stan_of_many
Summary: “The brief feeling of relief that Neal hadn’t been sneaking off to get into who knew what kind of trouble was quickly overshadowed as Peter suddenly noticed the uncharacteristic slump of Neal’s shoulders. His head was slightly bowed as he stood, back to Peter, seemingly doing nothing more than watching the ant-sized people and tiny cars on the street below.”Peter comes across the hurting side of Neal Caffrey.
Relationships: Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 25
Kudos: 105





	Just a Criminal

**Author's Note:**

> I tried not to stray too far from their relationship in the show, but if they’re both a bit more open than they might’ve been, forgive me. 
> 
> I think it makes the most sense to place this sometime in season 2 because they’ve been working together for about a year at that point. Too much later on i’d find it unlikely Neal would have been so unsure of the things Peter reassures him about, but it doesn’t really matter, there are no spoilers, you could really put it wherever you want. 
> 
> Also I specifically didn’t want this to be a holiday fic so I vaguely named the FBI event. Sorry.

“ _As long as we treat him like a criminal—he’ll always think that he is one_. ”

—Peter Burke, White Collar 3x16

Neal Caffrey prided himself on being able to read people. Tone of voice, body language, if you knew where to look there was a wealth of information that the average person missed, and if you knew how to use that information you could do almost anything. 

Right now, however, as Neal chatted with a small group of clerks and probies that he had rarely interacted with at the annual FBI gathering, their body language was quite clear: they were not comfortable with him. 

With closed off body language, short answers to questions, and badly hidden glances at his left ankle, Neal was getting the message loud and clear. Never one to back down from a challenge though, Neal had certainly charmed much more hostile people than a group of young, slightly nervous FBI agents, so, ignoring the glances, he turned the Caffrey Charm to its highest setting, determined to win them over. 

A few minutes later had Neal still talking with the group, a strange pit forming in his stomach as their unease refused lessen, turning almost hostile at times. With each of their badly hidden glances he grew more aware of the heavy weight around his ankle, the tracking anklet that may as well have been a sign written on his forehead in sharpie “I’m a criminal, don’t trust me”. 

He was a criminal. No matter what else he was, no matter how charming, sympathetic, charismatic, or kind, he would always be first and foremost a criminal in the minds of this group of people. 

Neal was never one to pass up a challenge, but he also knew when to quit. Pushing down the stab of hurt that came as yet another of the probies glanced down at his left foot, he realized the futility of the conversation, smiled, and politely excused himself from the group. There were always other people to talk to. 

He stopped at the refreshment table and helped himself to a drink, overhearing an agent from violent crimes mention a case he and Peter had closed only a few weeks before. Smiling, Neal made a move to join the conversation. As he walked over the agent speaking hid a look of annoyance quite badly. 

“Ah yes, Mr. Caffrey. Agent Burke did mention that you consulted on that case a bit. I was rather surprised to hear it, the case has been on our radar for a while you know, and I wouldn’t have wanted to risk not closing it by having a criminal consultant, but I was impressed with how well everything went in the end all things considering.” Neal attributed the slight emphasis on the word “criminal” to his imagination, but the comment was still a painful barb in the shoddy disguise of a compliment and Neal couldn’t excuse it as anything but intentional as the agent gave a thin smile. He smiled back anyway and made a glibly modest comment, it never hurt to be the better person, but quickly gave an excuse and walked away from the group. 

He found himself standing in a corner, sipping at his drink slightly faster than would probably be deemed polite and trying to ignore the sting of the agent’s words. 

Neal glanced around the room, looking for a familiar face from the White Collar division to socialize with, but everyone was involved in conversation or activities with someone else. 

The thought sprung into his mind with sudden persuasive clarity; he had absolutely no business being here. 

Why should he fit in? Neal almost laughed bitterly to himself as he thought about it, this was an event for the FBI, people on the right side of the law, certainly not for criminals. The agents may be forced to work with him everyday, but he was kidding himself if he thought that they tolerated him for any other reason besides the fact that they had to. 

Glancing around quickly he observed the situation. He couldn’t stay here, that was certain, but Peter was his ride and would be worried if he went home in a cab early and for no apparent reason. He toyed with the idea of claiming illness, but tossed it away, he didn’t need to leave the building, just the event and Peter wouldn’t notice if he sneaked out carefully and slipped back into the room right before they needed to go. 

With that thought Neal set down his glass and slipped unassumingly to the elevator, pressing the familiar button that took him up to the white collar floor, almost sagging against the elevator in relief as he escaped the oppressive atmosphere. 

***

“Agent Burke? Do you know where Caffrey is? I could use him on my team for Pictionary.” Peter glanced over at the probie,

“Yeah Blake, I just saw him over...” Peter glanced around the room frowning and searching for his CI. Neal was nowhere to be seen. Peter’s alarm bells immediately went off. 

Neal Caffrey was the life of every party he attended. As a con man, ever charming and able to read people well, he naturally adapted himself to fit each person’s ideal conversationalist, not necessarily to con them, it was just who he was. It was a skill fostered over years of cons, that at the end of a party, no one who ran into Neal Caffrey would have anything bad to say. 

Wherever the hub of the party was, Neal was usually at the center of it, and the FBI traditional yearly gathering should have been no exception—except it was. 

While any other person, agent or otherwise, could easily mention Neal’s charm and charisma, his great conversation and tendency to be the most fun and popular person in almost any room, Peter knew Neal better. 

Peter knew that Neal was only visible when he chose to be. The con man could also fade skillfully into the background, into the outskirts of the party, could sneak away leaving no one the wiser despite having, only a few minutes before, held everyone’s attention. He knew how to blend in as well as he knew how to stand out because blending in was an important part of slipping away in order to rob the hosts blind or get into all kinds of trouble. It was with this knowledge that Peter felt a sinking in his gut as he scanned the room for his CI who had certainly been there not long before. 

He quickly pulled up Neal’s tracking data on his phone, his frown deepening as the readout put the CI in Peter’s office in White Collar upstairs. He excused himself from the conversation and headed toward the elevators, wondering what could be in his office that Caffrey was interested in sneaking around to get. Whatever it was, Peter hoped to catch him in the act. 

He reached the white collar division in short order and stormed up the stairs to his office ready to confront his CI, but was drawn up short at the sight of Neal silhouetted against the window. The young man wasn’t rummaging through Peter’s drawers or picking the lock of his filing cabinet as Peter had expected, he was quietly looking out the window at the sight of the shining New York City skyline. 

The brief feeling of relief that Neal hadn’t been sneaking off to get into who knew what kind of trouble was quickly overshadowed as Peter suddenly noticed the uncharacteristic slump of Neal’s shoulders. His head was slightly bowed as he stood, back to Peter, seemingly doing nothing more than watching the ant-sized people and tiny cars on the street below.

Peter mounted the last few stairs less urgently and softly leaned against the doorframe, aware he had stumbled across a side of Neal that he wouldn’t have shown intentionally. 

“Sometimes the beauty of the New York skyline at night can still surprise you even if you’ve lived here for years.” Peter remarked quietly from his position in the doorway. 

It was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment as Neal turned, startled, but hiding it well as he was so adept at doing. His shoulders straightened and all trace of anything other than normal, charming Caffrey confidence was gone as he faced Peter. 

“Peter! Hey, I was just taking a phone call, needed to be able to hear though sound of my own thoughts, I didn’t think you’d mind...” he gestured with the cell phone he had pulled out of his jacket with a wry smile. If Peter had been anyone but Peter Burke, special agent and Neal Caffrey expert, he would have been fooled by the convincing mask of “everything is just fine over in Caffrey-land”, but he wasn’t. 

To Peter the phone and really the whole “everything is great” persona was an obvious charade, but his gut and the sag he had seen in Neal’s shoulders told him it wasn’t a lie to cover up Neal’s usual mischief. This was covering up something personal, something painful, something Neal didn’t want Peter to see. 

Peter ignored Neal’s excuse about the phone call, walking over to the window and half sitting against the ledge, joining Neal in gazing out the window. 

“It really doesn’t ever stop being beautiful.” He motioned for Neal to sit down too and the CI obeyed. “I’ve seen this view a few too many times really...seeing the city at night like this means I’ve worked late and left El alone for the evening.” Pete huffed a laugh, “You were probably the reason for at least half of those times.” Neal laughed softly, 

“You’re welcome?” 

They sat in silence for several minutes before Peter ventured a glance at his partner. Face outlined in the glow of the city, Neal’s expression had opened up in a way Peter had never seen before and doubted few other people ever seen either. There was hurt visible in the expression, but other, softer things as well. Peter almost gaped at the difference it made in the younger man’s face, transforming him from the slick, confident con man that the world saw every day to the real, young, and obviously hurting Neal Caffrey. 

A surge of protectiveness welled up in Peter’s chest, the kind that became dangerous when Neal did something wrong, the kind Peter needed to keep a tight grip on for fear it would keep him from delivering justice when needed. But tonight, Peter didn’t think he needed to worry about that, for once Neal hadn’t done anything, he was just hurting. 

Neal came out of the moment without any warning and before Peter could blink the mask was firmly back in place as if it had never left. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to the party,” Neal’s tone was light and he grinned over at Peter, “now that you’ve confirmed I’m not looking to steal your most valuable possessions?” 

“Shouldn’t you?” Peter countered, “Now that you’ve finished your phone call?” Neal waved away the comment,

“I’m a bit tired Peter, I might just stay up here if it’s all the same to you. And anyway, FBI event...agents...criminals...we mix a bit like oil and water.” The words were spoken jokingly but Peter frowned,

“You’re my CI Neal, you work with the FBI and you’ve been interacting with FBI agents on a daily basis for almost a year.” Neal shrugged,

“Work and pleasure are different.” Peter was silent for a moment then changed tactics,

“Agent Blake was looking for you, wanted you on his team for Pictionary.” Neal hummed an acknowledgment but said nothing. Peter pushed on, “You sure you don’t want to come? We’d like you to be there.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” Neal’s voice was low but his expression was blank as Peter looked over,his profile still lit slightly by the glow of the city lights. This was a different mask, emotionless, as though, if Neal couldn’t maintain the facade that everything was great, he would settle for one that said nothing mattered. “Or rather,  you might, but most people don’t.” 

And there it was. 

When Peter had first decided to take Neal’s deal, he had called the White Collar division to attention, laying out clearly his expectations for their treatment of the CI. That, together with Neal’s naturally charming personality had seen the Neal through nothing worse than a few weeks of slightly stiff conversations before acceptance from the members of White Collar division. It had been far easier than Peter had expected really, but he was proud of the people he had chosen to work with him, they were good and decent people and showed it in their treatment of Neal. 

But not everyone agreed with Peter or the White Collar Division. Peter knew that, Neal knew that, they’d run into it several times before and it had effected Neal about as much as water on a duck—or so Peter had thought. 

But alone, when no one was watching, the real Neal Caffrey crept out, and he was obviously more sensitive and bruised than many would have imagined. Peter felt guilty at the fact that even he, the person who probably knew Neal best, had only stumbled across this realization on accident. He knew, of course, that Neal never let on to almost anything no matter what he really felt, but it was easy to forget that life didn’t treat Caffrey as well as the CI liked to pretend.

Neal looked over and saw Peter’s expression of concern.  _ Another piece of the mask _ , Peter thought grimly as Neal pasted on his classic grin,

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad for me Peter, that’s just the way it is. I know that, you know that, it’s not a problem. I really am just kind of tired.” He stood up, “but I’ll go back if you really want me to.” Far better to go back to the discomfort of the party than brave an even more uncomfortable discussion up here. 

“You think everyone downstairs sees you as just a criminal?” It was more of a statement than a question and Peter spoke bluntly. Neal shrugged,

“It’s true isn’t it?” His tone was breezy and he casually picked up the rubber band ball he had left on Peter’s desk earlier, but his very desperation to sound uncaring was Peter’s proof that the subject should be treated anything  but casually. 

“No, it’s not.” Peter’s candid words were startling enough that they shattered Neal’s mask for a brief moment and Peter saw a flash of disbelief mixed with a small amount of hope. Within an instant it was mended and firmly back in place, though Peter pushed down a smile at the thought that things that had broken once were far more easily shattered in the future. Neal’s mask was smirking now,

“So I’m not a criminal? Wow Peter, we’re going to have to have an interesting conversation about this anklet then.” 

Peter felt a brief flash of frustration at the flippancy of the words, but tamped it down, refusing to be distracted. 

“You are a criminal Neal, but that certainly isn’t all you are—it isn’t even  _nearly_ the most important thing you are. And not everyone sees you as just a criminal.” 

Neal cocked a dubious eyebrow, on the face of it bating his handler, but Peter could tell he was listening, encouraging the agent to go on, to tell him the truths that he needed so badly to hear. “You need examples? Okay I’ll give you examples. 

“Jones once told me you were the “best person to talk life with” late in the van. He says it’s too bad you don’t like the van more because you’re the best thing that ever happened in there. He doesn’t just see you as a criminal, he sees you as buddy. 

“And Diana—you know Diana loves arguing with you, right? You’re one of the few people sharp enough to battle wits with her and she absolutely adores it.. You should’ve seen her all frustrated those few days when you were deep undercover. She nearly brought one of the clerks to tears she was trying so hard to find someone to spar with and I caught her calling over to you more than once before she remembered you were gone. Diana sees you as a rival in the best way possible.” 

Neal’s face had taken on a small smile at Peter’s words but he huffed a slightly bitter laugh,

“It’s nice to know the two agents that I work with most closely don’t hate me.” Peter sighed,

“Okay fine, you want more? How about Agent Blake? He sees you as the artist who will definitely help him win at Pictionary if you would only join. He also sees you as the guy who’s conned him into writing way too many reports but also had his back instantly when his cover went south on the Shackleton case. 

“How about that intern, what’s her name, Janie? I overheard her talking to someone in the break room yesterday about how you walked her to her car when she was working late the other night. It got dark and she was nervous, and you noticed her discomfort and offered to escort her. Do you think she would have let you do that if she had thought of you only as a criminal? You earned a lot of respect from her with that.”

Neal just watched Peter silently as the agent ran down the list of people working in white collar, all of whom had different reasons to like and respect the CI who had worked with them over the past year. His expression was carefully controlled, amused at some points, more thoughtful in others, but controlled all the same. Peter began growing frustrated again,

“And then there’s El and Sara and—d**mit Neal, do you really think a criminal is all any of us see you as? Tell me you don’t really think that’s all you are.” 

Neal was silent and Peter looked back out the window, taking a deep breath. He felt Neal rejoin him at the glass, leaning his hands on the ledge and staring out. 

“How do you see me Peter?” The sincerity of the question startled the agent and he turned to Neal. The man’s posture, every line of his body showed the mask was shattered entirely, Neal’s face was turned away in an attempt keep Peter from seeing what Neal could no longer hide in any other way. 

Peter took a moment to think, aware of the importance of the question and the effort it took the young man to ask it. He placed his hand gently on Neal’s shoulder, 

“I see you as the best game of chase and the best game of wits I’ve ever played, I see you as a valuable member of our team, sometimes I see you as a complete pain in the neck.” Peter laughed gently, “I see you as my responsibility to keep safe which you make very difficult if I’m being honest. I see you as my partner, I see you as someone I would never trust with my wallet but someone I would trust with my life and the lives of everyone I hold dearest.” He paused a second and and squeezed the man’s shoulder, “But I guess, most of all Neal, I see you as a friend.” Neal’s body grew tense under Peter’s touch and he turned, finally, to face him. 

“A friend? You see me as a friend?” The words were spoken quietly, doubtfully, hopefully, and Peter’s heart almost broke to hear them. 

“Oh geeze Neal yes— _yes_ , of course I do. You think after this past year we’re not friends?” 

“I didn’t know what you thought.” Neal looked down at his hands, still holding the rubber ball, “I hoped we were”. He looked back up with a shy smile. It was a far cry from his usual grin but to Peter it was one of the few real smiles he had ever received from the con man. 

The protective side of Peter surged back and Elizabeth’s voice in his head gave him a nudge and a gentle smile,  _don’t you dare ignore that feeling, he needs you_ . To heck with it, he thought, and reached over, pulling Neal into a hug. 

Instead of the awkward stiffness Peter was expecting, the young man relaxed almost instantly against him, melting into Peter’s embrace and hugging back. Peter was not expecting the receptiveness to the gesture, but he was expecting even less the moisture that came to his eyes as they broke apart. Neal looked slightly embarrassed but was smiling and toying playfully with the rubber band ball. He glanced out the window,

“Thanks Peter.” His voice was quiet, but no longer hurting. The agent nodded,

“You’re welcome. I just told you the truth.” They were silent a moment before Peter stood, slapping Neal on the back. “Poor Blake is probably still looking for you and is planning on winning a game of Pictionary, so if you feel up to heading back...” Neal grinned,

“I certainly can’t leave Agent Blake to loose a game of Pictionary, can I?” Peter shook his head with a smile,

“No you most certainly cannot.” 

As they walked out of the office, Peter glanced back at the New York skyline that he had observed on so many late nights chasing after the young man in front of him. It had never stopped being beautiful, even after all those years. 


End file.
